no place to hide, just a little on the side.
fuck your guidance, please, no more rules,
i get enough of that bullshit in my days,
and in schools. with paint on my hands,
i point to the sky, toward everlasting light that bends, transends,
and later gives birth to th evergrowing green sea, that sea in a bottle with
a boat and a tree, all for me, im not giving it up,
so just move a long sir, i must be filling my cup,
its about that time.
its about that time.
its about the time time time,
to stick blisters on your fingers,
and make that dime. feel alive, feel free, fall down,
inbetween your loud mouth concious, and me.
its all for free if you want, its just some junk.
its nothing in particular. colors stacked up high,
moving mach five, traveling on the by and by,
just trying to glide up at night.
still reaching for that light, balloons popping, drugs pushing,
its like the bad ending on a never ending movie.
new york im loving you, just as long as you love me back.
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